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by Starofwinter



Category: Star Wars Legends: Republic Commando Series - Karen Traviss
Genre: Body Paint, M/M, Massage, Praise Kink, Sweet Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-05 21:37:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11586684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starofwinter/pseuds/Starofwinter
Summary: Their relationship has never been easy or sweet or perfect, they’ve been rivals since childhood for everything, but… they’re the best they have.  They love each other, and that’s enough to span the lightyears that often separate them.  Ordo wouldn’t trade it for anything.





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**Author's Note:**

> Prequel of sorts to Gold. Title and inspiration from the Mumford and Sons song.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit, Ord’ika,” Mereel murmurs in his ear, “You don’t need to keep trying to be the best, you know, you already are.”  His hand keeps moving, spreading the shimmering paint over Ordo’s skin, only pausing to press down a bit on the middle of his chest - it’s not enough to pin him, but it’s a heavy enough weight to let him relax a little into the hotel bed.  

Ordo reaches up, resting his hands on Mereel’s hips as he sits on his thighs.  “Mer’ika-”

“Would I lie to you, cyare?”  Pale blue eyes meet his, and Ordo flushes.  “I never have, and I never will.”  They both know that, in and of itself, is a lie - Mereel lies as easily as breathing - the difference is that he only lies to Ordo if he has to.  

Ordo closes his eyes, letting out a slow, heavy breath.  “I know,” he says, “I know.”

“So trust me.  Let me give you this.  Let me make you feel  _ good _ , Ord’ika.”

“Okay.”

Their relationship has never been easy or sweet or perfect, they’ve been rivals since childhood for  _ everything _ , but… they’re the best they have.  They love each other, and that’s enough to span the lightyears that often separate them.  Ordo wouldn’t trade it for anything.

“Turn over,” at Ordo’s raised brow, Mereel smirks and gives him a kiss, “Just trust me.”  He rolls over obediently, stretching out a little more on the comfortable bed.  Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Mereel pouring more of the beautiful paint over his hands.  It seems like a waste, and Ordo tells him so.  He just gives another of those sparkling, unreadable smiles, and leans down to brush a kiss to his cheek.  “Nothing is wasted on you, Ordo, not ever.  You’re worth all of it and more.”

Ordo doesn’t know how to respond, so he doesn’t.  He shivers at the words of praise - no matter how often Kal’buir or Mereel offer it, he’s always hungry for more.  He wants to be  _ good _ .  This - what they share - it lets him be good; it’s  _ safe _ , no need to analyze or plan, no matter what choice he makes, it’ll be the right one, and Mereel still praises him for it.  

Mereel's hands glide over his skin with the paint, and Ordo can't hold back a moan as those clever fingers work out a knot of tension in his shoulders.  “Good, cyare,” Mereel whispers in his ear, pressing up against him, “I want to hear you.”

Ordo can’t stay quiet after that, and Mereel meets each sound with a quiet word of praise.  The stress he always carries, the anxiety and tension and worry, all of it melts away.  It’s so  _ good _ to let go of it, and before long, he’s rutting against the silky sheets, gasping softly.  Mereel’s hands work their way lower, massaging the base of his spine before squeezing his ass, and he shivers.  The paint has warmed to their skin, and it feels better than he’d expected as it drips over him, honey-thick and dulling the feeling of the hands on his body from  _ too much _ to just enough.

“Can I fuck you?”  Mereel sounds  _ reverent _ as he asks, and Ordo shivers at the question.  “You’re all I’ve been able to think about for the last month, Ord’ika; you, and how fucking good you feel around my cock.”   He whispers the last words against Ordo’s ear, teeth barely scraping the shell when he goes silent. 

“Please,” Ordo breathes, “I’ve missed you so much.”  He turns his head, watching Mereel dip his fingers in that beautiful gold paint.   It’s cool as it drips from his hand to Ordo’s skin, running down his ass.  

Mereel moans behind him.  “You are so  _ beautiful _ .  I want you to see yourself.  Look up.”  Oh hells, Ordo had forgotten for a moment that the only bed in the room had come with a kriffing mirror on the headboard, angled perfectly for him to see himself.  He  _ does _ look like some kind of abstract artwork, the kind that hangs in the sort of museums Kal’buir takes them to.  It’s hard to think of  _ himself _ as beautiful, but he can almost see what Mereel is talking about, covered in swirls of gold and silver and copper, muscles rippling under his skin.  Maybe he could call himself beautiful.

Those thoughts are derailed instantly as Mereel starts to open him up, slow and careful, the way he always is when he decides Ordo needs to relax more than they need to get off quickly.   “Just like that,” Mereel says softly, lips brushing his ear again, “You’re so perfect for me, Ord’ika, I like seeing you this relaxed, it’s good for you.  You’re always so tense, it isn’t healthy.  You should let me take care of you more often.”  His voice is warm and steady, perfect and familiar as he praises him.  It feels even better than his fingers, and Ordo can barely breathe as he listens.  Mereel’s always been better with words and charm than any of them, and even though Ordo  _ knows _ what he’s doing, it still feels so heady having that attention turned on him.

“ _ Please _ ,” Ordo breathes, hungry and just this side of pleading, “I need you.”  His eyes flutter shut for a moment as Mereel slips his fingers out.  He can hear the click of the jar of paint on the side table, and the sound of Mereel’s hand on his cock; he fights the urge to rut against the mattress again.  He isn’t sure he can move anyway, he’s so relaxed and pliant on the bed.  

“ _ Ah- _  Open your eyes, Ord’ika.  I told you I wanted you to watch this, and I do.”  Mereel kisses at his neck, and Ordo obediently looks up again, watching as he lines himself up and presses in.  They’re both streaked with metallic paint, and he thinks that Mereel looks  _ breathtaking _ as he starts to move.  

Ordo loses himself in the feeling, Mereel’s hands slick on his skin, stroking over his back, spreading more paint there.  He keeps purring praise, his voice getting lower and huskier as his words are punctuated with low moans and curses.  Ordo is still too relaxed to move, so he gives into it, letting Mereel do all the work.  It feels strange but  _ good _ , giving everything up, letting himself do nothing but feel.  His only motions are little jerks of his hips while he ruts into the mattress, riding out the pleasure until he comes with a moan of Mereel’s name, fingers tangled in his hair to pull him forward for a kiss.

Mereel follows him over the edge, fucking into him harder as he comes, groaning against his lips.  Ordo shudders as he slumps forward, molded against his back for a moment to pant against his shoulder.  “You’re perfect, Ord’ika, don’t ever think otherwise.  Perfect.”  He slowly pulls out, tugging Ordo to him, away from the paint- and-come stained half of the bed.  They curl around each other, and Mereel sighs as Ordo rests his head on his chest.  

The ghost of a kiss brushes his hair, and Ordo smiles a bit, finally giving in to the urge to rest.  He loves having Mereel here with him, the two of them tangled in sheets covered in gold and silver and copper, feeling beautiful and loved, even if it’s just for a little while.  It feels like home.


End file.
